Julia stood alone in the vast exhibition hall and gazed at the tattered remnants of the Christian Commission’s fair. The crowds that had filled the building for the past three days had all gone home, the patriotic bunting drooped from the rafters, and a lone worker swept the littered floor with a broom. It was late. The fair was over. It was past time for Julia to go home. They’d collected tons of food and clothing for the comfort and relief of soldiers, and thousands of dollars in donations to purchase Bibles, religious tracts, and medical supplies for the Commission to distribute. She’d worked hard to make the fair a success, and it had filled the void in her life for the past month. But what would she do now that the fair was over?
“Julia?” Nathaniel’s voice echoed in the deserted hall. “Don’t tell me you’re still here? Do you need a ride home?” He jogged up the long aisle toward her, looking as fresh and buoyant as if it were morning, not late at night on the last day of the fair. She marveled at how Nathaniel’s “causes” always seemed to energize him, not deplete him.
“No, my coach is outside,” she said. “I was just leaving. Why are you still here?”
“We were counting the donations. You won’t believe it—more than twelve thousand dollars so far! What an enormous success!” Nathaniel was beaming. “And we owe it all to you, Julia.”
“I hardly think that’s true. There were hundreds of people involved.”
“But you organized all this. And you’re the one who convinced some very wealthy donors to make contributions. None of the Christian Commission’s other fairs have been as successful as this one.”
“That’s wonderful news. I’m glad it went so well.”
“And I’m glad we had a chance to work together for these past few weeks.” His voice grew softer. He stood very close to her. “Julia, this is how I long imagined it would be, having a partner and a helpmeet who would aid me in my work.”
She felt a prickle of irritation, like a stone in her shoe. “I consider this my work, too.”
“I know,” he said, smiling. “That’s what’s so wonderful about it. You’re willing to make my causes your very own.”
He still wasn’t getting it. Julia opened her mouth to explain to him that she would have worked just as hard for the Christian Commission if he hadn’t been involved, but before she could speak, he did.
“You worked so tirelessly for me on this fair. And you were always so willing to do any task I gave you. You truly went the extra mile—even now, staying around to help until the very end. You’re so hardworking and generous and selfless—”
“Please stop. I am not all those things.”
“Did I mention modest, too?” he asked, grinning. Nathaniel’s charm and natural charisma added to his enormous attractiveness. He was a godly man, a passionate preacher. Julia did not feel worthy of his flattery.
“I’m human, Nathaniel. I make mistakes like everyone else. I sometimes need forgiveness.”
“Of course. We all do.” He was flying high on the fair’s success and doing his best to lift her up with him. But the loss that had shadowed her for so long seemed to drape across her shoulders, weighing her down. “Julia, what’s wrong?” he asked.
“It’s hard to live up to your opinion of me. I can’t spend my life on a pedestal. One wrong move and I’ll fall, and then you’ll see me as I truly am.”
“I have seen you as you truly are, on that hospital ship. And I never saw a kinder, lovelier woman. You’re so different from all the other young ladies at church. None of them would ever be willing to make all the sacrifices you’ve made to become a nurse—to work so selflessly amidst such horror and despair. You are a beautiful person, Julia. I don’t understand why it upsets you to hear that.”
“I miss working at the hospital.” The simple truth surprised her. “Charity work just isn’t the same.” She remembered the night she had helped James operate, the many hours they’d spent together on the wards, battling to save lives. Her eyes filled with tears.
Nathaniel studied her for a long moment, his eyes more gray than blue in the dim light. “Will you marry me, Julia?” he said suddenly. “We could spend our lifetime working together this way. I know we haven’t courted for very long, but I’ve found the woman I want to marry, and I don’t want to lose you. Please say you will.”
Julia imagined herself working alongside Nathaniel as she had worked beside James and said, “Yes. I’ll marry you.”
Two years ago, after her behavior at Bull Run, she never would have believed that Nathaniel would ask. And now he had. Her life with him would have purpose and meaning. She would be more than the porcelain doll on a shelf that Hiram Stone had described. She would be able to forget James, pushing all her memories of him into the past.
Nathaniel smiled broadly at her reply, then sobered. He was going to kiss her. Julia held her breath, her heart racing as she looked up into his handsome face. He rested his hands lightly on her arms and closed his eyes as he leaned toward her. His lips pressed against hers for a few seconds, then he pulled back to look at her.
The kiss had been prim and stiff, as if Nathaniel were pressing a brass stamp into soft wax to seal a letter. It seemed more a sign of ownership than passion. Julia remembered James’ kiss and felt a loss. She longed to put her hands in Nathaniel’s fair hair and pull him toward her, to feel the warmth of his face against hers, his arms surrounding her, holding her close. But he took a step back.
“I’ll need to ask your father’s permission before we can make it official,” he said. “And I want to buy you a ring.”
He reached for her hand and held it stiffly, as if holding a china teacup. His fingers were cool. Again she thought of James, of the tender gesture she’d seen so many times as he rested his hand on a patient’s brow. James had held her face in his hands with that same tenderness the night he’d kissed her. His hands had been warm.
“And I would like to arrange for my father to meet you,” Nathaniel continued.
Julia shook herself. She had just accepted a proposal of marriage from Nathaniel, the man she had loved for all these years. Why on earth was she thinking of another man’s kiss, another man’s touch? A married man.
“I can only afford two or three servants on my minister’s salary,” Nathaniel said. “I’m afraid ours will be a much simpler life than what you’re accustomed to. But I think I know you well enough to know that an extravagant lifestyle doesn’t matter to you.”
“It doesn’t,” she replied, dazed.
“I’ll make an appointment to talk with your father as soon as possible …if that’s okay?”
“Of course.”
“I hope you don’t want a long engagement, Julia. I believe that once you find the person who’s right for you, there’s no sense in waiting. And I think ours is a partnership made in heaven, don’t you?”
She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out. She couldn’t comprehend that the man she’d long dreamed of had just asked her to marry him.
“Julia, you’re speechless. I hope it’s with happiness?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “It is.”
She wanted him to kiss her again, to erase forever the memory of James’ kiss with a memorable one of his own. Instead, Nathaniel took her arm and led her toward the door.
“You must be exhausted from working these last three days. I know I am. I want you to go home now, dear, and get some rest. Let’s find your coachman.”
Alone in her carriage, Julia realized that Nathaniel had never once said, “I love you.”
“General Lee and his Rebels have crossed the border into Pennsylvania,” Julia’s father told her the next morning.
“Pennsylvania! They’re here?”
“I’m afraid so.” He sat at the breakfast table, frowning as he read the morning newspaper. His food sat untouched in front of him. Julia had picked up an empty plate to fill with food from the silver chargers on the buffet, but she set it down again.
“How close are they?”
“The paper says near Chambersburg. That’s about one hundred and fifty miles from here. Apparently the Rebels are pillaging the countryside for food as they go. Disgraceful behavior!”
“Our Union soldiers are no better, Daddy. I saw what they did to Fredericksburg, Virginia, with my own eyes. It wasn’t even for food. They were just looting and destroying for the fun of it.” Julia also remembered the vicious cannonading that the town had endured and how she had pictured her own city being bombarded that way. “Do you think the Rebels will come as far as Philadelphia?”
“No one knows where they’re headed, but it does look as though there will be fighting on Union soil soon. They’re not too far from Harrisburg.” He folded the paper and laid it beside his plate, then stood. “God help us. General Meade had better do a better job of stopping Lee than Hooker or Burnside or McClellan did.”
All thoughts of her engagement to Nathaniel took second place in Julia’s mind for the next few days as the citizens of Philadelphia held their breath, waiting for news of the Confederate invasion. Nor did Nathaniel have time to approach Julia’s father and make his proposal official as he and his Commission volunteers prepared to ship the goods they had just collected to needy Union soldiers.
On the morning of July 3, Julia and her father read news of a horrific series of battles that had taken place near the little-known Pennsylvania town of Gettysburg. Alongside the reports, the paper printed an urgent plea for volunteer physicians and nurses to help cope with the enormous casualties, estimated to be in the tens of thousands.
Julia didn’t ask her father for permission to go. As soon as he left for work, she hurried down to the Christian Commission’s offices to find Nathaniel. He would likely answer the plea for volunteers and deliver the badly needed supplies to Gettysburg himself. She found him hard at work, his sleeves rolled up like a laborer, loading crates, barrels, and the Commission’s tenting equipment onto a hired dray to transport them to the railroad station.
“I’m glad you’ve come,” Nathaniel said when he saw her. He set the box he carried onto the back of the wagon and dusted his hands on his trousers. “I was afraid I’d have to write you a note. I’m leaving shortly for Gettysburg.”
“I thought you might be. I’m going, too.”
He glanced around as if fearing someone might have overheard, then pulled Julia inside to his office. “I can’t let you do that. It isn’t proper. If we were already married it would be appropriate to have you come along and help me, but we’re not even officially engaged.”
“I’m not going to help you,” she said impatiently. “I’m trained as a nurse. They’re calling for volunteers. I’m going to help care for the wounded.”
“No. I can’t allow it.”
Julia stared at him, dumbstruck by his refusal. Why was he forbidding her to do the very thing he’d once claimed to admire? And what right did he have to forbid her to go in the first place?
“You are not my husband yet,” she said, barely controlling her temper. “It isn’t up to you to grant me permission. I’m going to Gettysburg, Nathaniel. My question is, may I travel with the Commission’s female volunteers, or should I look for another way to get there?”
He took a long moment to answer, and she knew he was battling his anger, too. “All of the Commission’s female volunteers are either married or widowed. You’re single.”
Ever since Nathaniel had proposed, Julia wondered if she should confess her original motives to him and admit that she had lied about being married in order to become a nurse. Seeing his reaction now and his puzzling opposition, she knew that confessing would be a mistake. She wanted to go and couldn’t risk him stopping her.
“I know I’m single,” she replied. “I was single when I worked on the battlefields at Antietam and Fredericksburg, and I was single when you and I worked together on the hospital ship on the Peninsula. How is this any different?”
“Because you’re going to be my wife. I feel protective of you and your reputation.”
“Are you sure you don’t mean your reputation?”
She could tell by Nathaniel’s reaction that her outspokenness had stunned him. She wondered if he would change his mind about marrying her. She thought it ironic that she had become a nurse to win his admiration and now her commitment to nursing might cause her to lose him. She pushed aside her anger to plead with him.
“Listen, I feel called to go. My work is important to me, just as your work is important to you. The fact that I am single, with no husband or children to bind me, is what gives me the freedom to serve those in need. Please, Nathaniel, let’s not argue about it. May I travel with the Commission, or should I look for another means of getting there?”
He looked away, his face cold. “Since you’ve reminded me that I’m not yet in a position to dictate to you, then I must ask if you have your father’s permission.”
“He knows you’re a trustworthy man. And the Christian Commission’s reputation is well-known. There’s no question of impropriety.”
“Then I guess I have no choice,” he said stiffly. “Our train to Hanover leaves in about three hours. Now please excuse me. I have a lot of work to do.” He turned to leave, but she held his arm, stopping him.
“Are you angry with me?”
“A little,” he said, not meeting her gaze. “But I’ll get over it.”
Phoebe lifted the soldier’s head and held the tin cup of wine to his lips. “Here you go, see if you can swallow a little bit of this. I know you’re hurting, and I wish we had something stronger, but this is all we got for now.”
“Thanks,” he whispered.
“You want a little more? Is there anything else I can do for you?” When he shook his head, Phoebe laid him down again and moved to her next patient. “How you doing? Can you swallow a little wine? I know it ain’t much of a breakfast, but it might ease your pain a little.”
“Breakfast? Is it morning?” he asked.
“Sure is. Sun’s just about to peek above that hill over there. See how pretty the sky looks?” It was the third sunrise Phoebe had watched with very little sleep in between. She didn’t know how long she could keep on working like this, but with nursing help in short supply, she knew she had to try.
“Lift me up so I can see,” the man begged.
“You sure?” she asked. “I don’t want to hurt you none.”
“Don’t worry,” he said, grimacing in pain. “I know I’m dying. It’s probably the last sunrise I’ll ever see.”
“You can’t lose hope,” she said as she helped him sit. “We’re doing everything we can to see that you make it.”
But helping him and the thousands of others just like him was an overwhelming task. Phoebe and the other nurses and doctors had arrived at the battlefield outside Gettysburg after the fighting had already begun. There had been no time to set up a proper field hospital or operating facilities, nor were there enough medical supplies to meet the enormous need. As General Meade marched his army north to chase Lee’s, he had ordered the wagon trains to carry ammunition and military equipment instead of medical supplies. The wounded soldiers had started to arrive before Phoebe and the other nurses had time to unpack what little they had. And with no tents for a field hospital, they’d been forced to care for the wounded in the open, outside the farmhouse where Dr. McGrath and the other surgeons were operating.
Phoebe left the soldier to enjoy what might well be his last sunrise and moved to the next man. When she saw that he was a Rebel soldier, she hesitated. All the wounded men had been mixed together, both Rebels and Yankees, but they were too badly injured to fight each other. Phoebe couldn’t forget that a Rebel shell had killed her brother. Another one had wounded her. She could still feel the ache in her shoulder as she knelt and lifted the Rebel’s head.
“You want a little sip of wine?”
He nodded and drank a few gulps. “We lost the battle yesterday, didn’t we?” he asked as she laid him down again. “I’m a prisoner.”
She’d been told that the Rebels had retreated across the Potomac during the night after yesterday’s battle. Three days of terrible fighting had left thousands of men on both sides wounded and slaughtered. The Confederate soldiers who were too badly injured to travel had been left behind. Many Confederate surgeons had stayed behind with them to care for their men.
“This here is a field hospital,” she told him. “I’m a nurse, not a prison guard. And don’t ask me nothing about any battles. I’m too busy taking care of folks to keep score.”
She moved to her next patient, also a Rebel. As she worked, she was gradually aware that one of the Confederate doctors was watching her. He was an unusually tall, gangly young fellow with a drooping mustache and several days’ stubble on his chin. She’d seen him moving among the men, working day and night like all the other doctors, never looking to see what uniform a man wore. He was sitting beneath a tree just a few yards away from her.
She glanced up at him and their eyes met. Hers narrowed. “You checking up on me?” she asked. “Making sure I don’t poison them or something?”
He laughed, and the sound was as loose and free as his longlimbed body. “No, ma’am. You don’t look like the sort of lady who’d do a thing like that. But I was watching you, I confess. And I reckon I owe you an explanation why.”
“You don’t owe me nothing,” she said, looking away. As she started to move to the next patient, the doctor held out a tin cup.
“Mind if I have a little drop of that? I’d prefer coffee this time of day, but I’ll take whatever I can get.”
Phoebe walked down the row to where he sat and poured from the bottle she carried. She’d been told it was communion wine taken from a nearby church.
“Whoa! That’s plenty. Can’t be getting drunk, now, can I? …Wait,” he said when she started to move away. “I was listening to you talk to the men. You sound just like the folks back home. I confess I was feeling a little homesick, especially for a woman’s voice, so that’s why I was watching you. Just wanted to think about home a little.”
“I ain’t a Confederate like you,” she said coldly. But she had noticed his familiar drawl. After living amongst northerners for nearly two years, she’d grown used to the funny way they talked. This doctor’s voice reminded her of home.
“No, ma’am. I knew you weren’t a Confederate,” he said. “Where are you from, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“I do mind.”
He laughed again. “That’s okay, I don’t blame you. This war has us all suspicious of each other, I reckon. I’m from Berkeley County, Virginia—not all that far from here, truth be told. Just across the Pennsylvania border. You probably never heard of my little hamlet, but the closest town of any size is Martinsburg.”
He lived in the next county over from Phoebe, not far from Bone Hollow. “Berkeley County ain’t part of Virginia no more,” she told him. “They just made a whole chunk of Virginia into a new state.”
“That’s what I heard. But I haven’t been home since the war started.”
“You joined the Confederacy,” she said bluntly.
“Well, yes, ma’am, I guess I did. But it wasn’t so much a matter of me joining them as them conscripting me. I’d just finished studying medicine in Charlottesville, and I was apprenticed to a doctor there. They needed doctors when the war started, so they grabbed me. How about you? How’d you get here? Followed your husband, I suppose?”
“I ain’t married.”
“Now, ma’am, I have a hard time believing that. Pretty gal like you?”
“Are you making fun of me?”
He looked truly surprised. “No, ma’am! I’m real partial to yellow hair, and yours is about the prettiest color yellow I’ve ever seen. Reminds me of corn tassels. You’re a strong gal and a fine nurse. I’ve watched you working. These southern belles who like to faint at the drop of a hat leave me cold. … Ma’am?” he said when she started to move away again. “Won’t you please tell me your name, so I don’t have to keep calling you ma’am?”
She hesitated. “It’s Phoebe.”
“Mine’s Daniel …Daniel Morrison.” He stuck out his hand to shake hers. Phoebe found herself warming to him against her will.
“You got a wife and children waiting for you, Dr. Morrison?”
“No, the gals back home never did see much to like about me,” he said, laughing. “They said I looked like a bag of bones all strung together every which way. Got no social graces to speak of, either, because I always had my nose in a book. And a country doctor from Berkeley County can’t offer a gal much in the way of finery and things.”
“You think you’ll go back home when the war’s over?” she asked.
He sighed. “Sometimes it’s hard to imagine that this war ever will be over, isn’t it? But, yeah, I’d like to go back to Berkeley County and be a doctor. That’s all I ever wanted. How about you?”
“I haven’t had much time to think about it,” she said, shrugging. “I guess I won’t have much choice except to go home.”
He smiled. “Well, when you get there, I’ll bet some lucky fella’s gonna snap you up for his wife right quick.”
Phoebe stared hard at him to see if he was poking fun, but she saw only admiration in his eyes. He was looking at her the way a man looks at a woman—something she’d never experienced before. He smiled shyly as she continued to study him, then slowly rose to his feet.
“Thanks for the wine. I sure did enjoy talking with you, Phoebe. You take care, now.”
The first thing Julia noticed when the Christian Commission arrived in Gettysburg was the stench. The dead couldn’t be buried fast enough, and the corpses of fallen army horses lay strewn on the ground, as well, bloating in the sun. Volunteers scattered chloride of lime everywhere, but it was a feeble gesture in the heat of summer. The smell of death and decay permeated every breath of air Julia took.
Improvised field hospitals had been set up wherever there was a need and a space—in houses, barns, and churches, even beneath covered bridges. Julia’s task was to drive around in the hired wagon with the other female volunteers and distribute food and medical supplies where they were needed. But she had prepared a satchel for herself with clean bandages and iodine and medicinal brandy, and she was prepared to leave the group and stay to help wherever extra nurses were needed.
One of the first farms they came upon on the outskirts of Gettysburg presented a now-familiar sight. Hundreds of badly injured men spilled from every shed and farm building, lying scattered across the yard beneath the trees. As her wagon pulled to a stop, the farmer’s wife came forward to tell them that the biggest need was for food and for help feeding all the men. Julia set to work with the others, preparing to distribute the soup and bread they’d brought.
She hadn’t worked for very long when an army doctor suddenly emerged from the farmhouse shouting, “I need a nurse! Quickly!”
“I’m a trained nurse,” Julia said. “I’ve just arrived. How can I help?”
“Come inside. Bring your things and some food if you have it.”
Julia grabbed her satchel and followed him inside, her heart pounding with both readiness and fear.
“One of our surgeons has collapsed,” he told her as they walked through an enclosed back porch leading to the kitchen. “We carried him into the parlor, and we need someone to attend him while we continue our work.”
He pointed to an open door off the kitchen, which led to a small sitting room. But first Julia would have to walk through the kitchen, which was being used as an operating room. The orderlies had carried in an injured soldier ahead of her, and he cried out in pain as they transferred him to the makeshift operating table. Julia looked away to avoid seeing his mutilated leg. Remnants of clothing and severed limbs lay piled in a corner near the hearth. There was blood everywhere. The wooden floor was slick with it. She closed her eyes, pausing for a moment.
“Are you all right?” the doctor asked.
“Yes …Do you know what’s wrong with this surgeon? Why he collapsed?”
“Exhaustion. He’s been working for three days without stopping. I don’t believe he’s eaten anything or slept in all that time. He collapsed a few moments ago, probably from fatigue and hunger.”
Julia got as far as the parlor doorway and froze. The doctor lay on the sofa, unconscious. He had one arm slung across his eyes as if shielding them, but even with most of his face covered, she recognized him immediately—James McGrath. She wanted to back away, to run from the farmhouse.
“Shouldn’t you just let him sleep?” she asked.
“Of course. But you must get him to eat something first. He’s one of our best surgeons. We need to get him back on his feet soon, or countless men will die.” The doctor left Julia and returned to his work.
She stared at James for a long moment, unable to move. There were thousands of wounded soldiers she could be helping, lying in homes and churches and barns all around Gettysburg. And there must be hundreds and hundreds of doctors and volunteer nurses, as well. What strange twist of fate had thrown her and James McGrath together again?
Julia knew that she shouldn’t stay here alone with him. One of the married volunteers could just as easily feed him. She should go back outside and get someone else to do this. But before she could leave, there was a commotion in the kitchen as the wounded soldier began screaming. Something crashed to the floor. James moaned at the sound and tried to bury his face in the sofa. She knew about his headaches, knew how light and sound intensified his pain—and she knew she was meant to be here.
Julia immediately closed the door to the kitchen behind her, then crossed the room to close all the curtains. When the room was as dark as she could make it, she pulled a wad of bandages from her satchel, dampened it with cold water from her canteen, then lifted James’ arm away from his face and covered his eyes with the cloth. She wet a second cloth and laid it across his forehead and used cotton lint to help plug his ears. Then she knelt beside the sofa to decide what to do next.
He was filthy from having collapsed onto the kitchen floor. She soaked another cloth, rubbed it with the bar of soap she carried, and cleaned the blood and filth off his hair and face. She found a fresh bruise where he’d bumped his head when he’d fallen, and she dabbed the cut with iodine. When his face was clean, she tied a strip of cloth around his head to hold the thick compress in place over his eyes in case he rolled over.
His shirt had to go next. It was disgusting—stiff in some places, sticky in others, and soaked through to his skin with three days’ worth of blood. James remained asleep as she gently rolled him over and stripped off his ruined shirt. It surprised her to discover that beneath his disheveled, ill-fitting clothes he was lean and well-built, with a strong torso and muscled arms. The hair on his chest was ginger-colored like his beard.
Julia had cleaned the blood off other wounded men countless times, but she slowly became aware of the impropriety of what she was doing as she worked on James McGrath. An unmarried woman simply shouldn’t be performing such duties. It was what everyone— her father, Dorothea Dix, Nathaniel—had been telling her all along. She hadn’t worried much about her reputation when she was in Washington pretending to be married to Robert, but she was no longer pretending. The other Commission volunteers knew she was single. If one of them were to walk into the darkened sitting room right now and see her alone with a half-naked man, Julia’s reputation would be ruined. So would her future as a minister’s wife.
And there was something more. She was no longer able to deny the strong attraction she felt toward James McGrath, an attraction that was very wrong.
Julia was suddenly in a hurry to finish. She quickly washed his bloodstained hands. She noticed that they were bare, but it took a moment for the truth to register—James wasn’t wearing his wedding ring. She dropped his left hand in shock.
What did it mean? Had he removed the ring so he could operate? But Julia had assisted him with surgery in Fredericksburg and he hadn’t removed it then. She scrambled to her feet. She felt close to panic and didn’t know why. She needed to leave. But she hadn’t fed him yet, and that was what the other doctor had specifically asked her to do.
Unwilling to go through the kitchen again, Julia found the front door to the farmhouse and hurried around to where her fellow volunteers were distributing soup. She silently took a tin bowl and spoon and was about to go back inside when one of the other ladies stopped her.
“You look quite pale, Julia. Are you all right? Is it horribly gruesome in there?”
She grasped the excuse like a lifeline. “Yes. They’re performing surgery. Please warn everyone to stay outside.”
“What about you? Can you stand it?”
“I’m nearly finished.”
Julia returned through the front door and latched it from the inside. She set the bowl on a table near the sofa and then lifted James’ head, propping him up with pillows. “Dr. McGrath…” she murmured, shaking his shoulder to wake him. “Doctor, you need to eat something.”
It took several minutes to stir him into consciousness. He moaned and groped with one hand to feel the compress covering his eyes.
“Leave it there,” she said, pulling his hand away. “Your hands are trembling. I’ll feed you.” She breathed a sigh of relief when he didn’t argue. Neither of them spoke while she spooned soup into his mouth. “Would you like more?” she asked when it was gone.
“No,” he said with a weary groan. “I have to go back to work. Bring me some strong coffee.”
“All right,” she said, removing the cushions from behind his head. “I’ll be right back with some. Rest for another minute.”
But James quickly passed out from exhaustion again, as she suspected he would. Julia removed his shoes and socks, then gently brushed his hair off his forehead.
“If you’re seeking atonement, James McGrath, you’ve paid for it,” she murmured. “You’ve been to hell.”
For the next two hours, Julia helped the other women distribute soup to the wounded men outside. When everyone had their fill, they loaded the wagon to move on to the next field hospital. Extra nurses were needed here, but Julia knew this was not the place where she should stay and work.
As they drove past the farmhouse, she caught a glimpse of Dr. McGrath standing on the back porch, calling for another patient. His clean shirt was already splattered with blood.
Phoebe stood outside the farmhouse, eating a slice of bread that the lady volunteers had left behind for the doctors and nurses. The sun was going down, and she couldn’t remember eating much all day. It tasted like a bite of heaven.
“Phoebe?”
She turned and saw Dr. McGrath leaning against the back door.
“Is there more of that bread somewhere?” he asked.
“Here,” she said, handing him a fresh loaf. “They left a whole bunch. Help yourself.”
“Thanks.” He tore off a piece and chewed slowly, gazing into the distance at the farmer’s trampled wheat field and the low hills beyond. Phoebe thought she’d never seen a man look so weary and still be standing.
“We’re leaving tomorrow,” he said after swallowing. “Our orders just came. General Meade is going to pursue Lee’s army, and since he’s expecting a fight, he has decided to take most of the army’s surgeons along. Only about a hundred or so will stay behind.”
“That’s not very many doctors for all these men.”
“No. It’s not. They’re saying there might be as many as twenty thousand casualties here.”
Phoebe shook her head, unable to comprehend such a number. She knew that her old regiment had taken part in the fighting at Gettysburg, and she longed to search among the dead and wounded for Ted. But with so many thousands, it was like searching for a needle in a haystack. It had been nearly a year since she’d last seen Ted. She wondered if she would ever see him again.
“I’ll leave it up to you to decide if you want to come with me tomorrow or stay here to help,” Dr. McGrath said. “Once the rail lines are restored, the injured will be evacuated to Baltimore and Washington. You can work at Fairfield Hospital if you’d like.”
Phoebe thought about it for a moment. She was afraid that the other doctors would never let an uneducated backwoods gal like her be their nurse. “No, I’ll go with you, Dr. McGrath.”
He nodded absently and tore off another piece of bread.
“Some Confederate doctors stayed behind with their men,” Phoebe said after a moment. “What will happen to them? Are they prisoners now?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged, then went back inside.
The summer sky seemed to stay light a long time after sunset as Phoebe stood in the yard, thinking about Dr. Daniel Morrison from Berkeley County. There were a lot of things in her little Bible that she still didn’t understand, but there was no mistaking the Lord’s command to love your enemies. She sighed and picked up one of the loaves of bread, knowing where she was most likely to find the Rebel doctor.
“Dr. Morrison?”
He had been kneeling beside a patient, but he quickly stood at the sound of her voice and swept off his hat. “Evening, ma’am.”
She had to look up to see his face. “I thought you might like some bread before it was all gone.”
“Thank you kindly. Will you have some with me?”
“No, go ahead. I already ate mine.” She fidgeted awkwardly, staring down at her shoes. “I’m leaving tomorrow,” she finally said. “I’ve come to say good-bye …and to tell you that I’m sorry I wasn’t very friendly yesterday. It’s just that …the Rebels killed my brother Willard. I know it wasn’t your fault. I got no right to hate you for it.”
“That’s okay, Phoebe. I understand.”
She exhaled in relief. “I was also wondering what was gonna happen to you. Are the Yankees gonna let you go when you’re finished here, or will you have to go to prison?”
He shrugged. “They haven’t told me yet. I hear there are several thousand wounded Rebel prisoners here in Gettysburg besides my own men. Guess if I have a choice, I’ll stay with them.”
“Well, I wish you luck, Doctor.”
“Thanks. It has been a pleasure making your acquaintance.” He stuck out his hand to shake hers. “If you’re ever in Berkeley County when this war’s over, you come see me, okay?”
She nodded and then looked up at him again. “My last name’s Bigelow. I’m from Bone Hollow. It’s right next door in Morgan County.”
He smiled broadly. “It sure is. Maybe our paths will cross again, Phoebe Bigelow—God willing.”
Julia walked down the long path between the rows of tents, searching for Nathaniel. The July afternoon was sweltering, and she unfastened the top button of her dress as she walked, then rolled up the long sleeves. Her mother would scold her for exposing her fair skin to the sun, but it was impossible to carry a parasol while nursing sick patients. Better to let her skin darken than to faint from the heat.
She finally found Nathaniel crouched beside the last tent, pounding in a stake. She paused to watch him. His bare forearms were tanned from the summer sun and dappled with freckles; his golden hair was bleached a shade lighter than usual. He stood and grabbed the tent pole in his fist, shaking it slightly to test it. He was a fine-looking man.
“Nathaniel!” she called.
He looked up and smiled when he saw her. She had scarcely talked to him in the three weeks they’d been in Gettysburg. The Commission’s male and female volunteers had been housed at separate tent sites, and she and Nathaniel had worked at different tasks during the day. When the badly needed medical tents had finally arrived, he and the other men labored for a week to set them up. The new field hospital had six rows of tents with four hundred tents in each row. Each tent could hold twelve patients.
The wounded had been collected from temporary hospitals all over Gettysburg, including the church where Julia had been nursing. The line of stretchers was a mile and a half long as volunteers transported the soldiers to the new hospital.
“I got your message,” she said. “You wanted to see me?”
“We’re finished here,” he said, gesturing to the tent. “Our group is returning to Philadelphia tomorrow. Can you help me spread the word among all the ladies so everyone will be ready to leave?”
Julia had already accepted an assignment at the new hospital, caring for two dozen gravely ill men. She had been dreading the day she would have to tell Nathaniel, unsure of his reaction. “I’m not going with you,” she said quietly.
He folded his arms across his chest, his face turned to stone. “Don’t do this to me, Julia.”
“I need to stay. There is still a terrible shortage of doctors and nurses. I can help save lives. I know how to dress wounds and which warning signs to watch for. There are so few experienced nurses. I’m needed here.”
“You came with the Commission. It’s my responsibility to see you safely home.”
“And what will I do once I’m there? Did you ever stop and think about that? How can I sit around sipping afternoon tea when people are dying?”
“Your father entrusted you to my care. What am I supposed to tell him?”
“The truth—that I defied both of you and stayed behind. I’ll write him a note if you’d like.”
He ran his fingers through his thick hair and exhaled angrily. “You’re making a mistake. Scripture clearly says that we are to honor our father and mother—”
“Stop it, Nathaniel. You know as well as I do that the Lord’s greatest commandments are to love God and love our neighbor. I’d be committing a much greater sin if I turned my back on men in need so that I could sit in a comfortable church pew in Philadelphia.”
Nathaniel paced angrily in front of the empty tent. He looked as though he wanted to smash something. “You force me to have such conflicting feelings, Julia. I admire you so much. I don’t know how you do this work. I can barely stand to see these pitiful souls. And the smell …What you do is remarkable.” He stopped pacing and turned to her, pleading with her. “But you’re going to be my wife. Can you understand that I feel protective of you? That I want you to be safe and sheltered?”
“Yes, of course I do.” She rested her hand on his arm to soothe him. “But I’m quite safe here. There are other Christian Commission volunteers from other cities who are staying longer—”
“That’s not the point,” he said, shrugging her hand away. “I know that our engagement isn’t official. I have no right to demand that you return to Philadelphia with me. I understand why you want to stay. … ”
“Then why are you so angry with me?”
He began pacing again. “This isn’t easy to say …without sounding like I’m…”He exhaled angrily.
Julia had heard his blunt opinion of her two years ago after Bull Run. Anything he said now couldn’t possibly be as devastating as that had been. “Just tell me,” she said.
He hesitated. “You are a very strong-willed woman, Julia.”
She almost smiled. It felt like a compliment. “These times call for strength,” she said quietly. “I’ve talked to some of the women in this community, and I’ve learned that the war has forced them to do all manner of things in their husbands’ absences—plow fields, run their shops and businesses…”
“Yes, and ever since the war began, you’ve been given an extraordinary amount of freedom for a woman of your social standing. But when we’re married …Scripture commands the husband to be the head of the household. The wife is commanded to submit to him. I need to know if you believe that. Or if you intend to defy me the way you’re defying your father. Because my home will be run according to God’s law.”
“Our home,” she whispered.
“Pardon?”
“Nothing.” This was the way marriage was for every couple Julia knew. She had been raised to expect nothing different. She loved Nathaniel. He was a godly man, not a tyrant. The war would end, and nurses would no longer be needed. Things would go back to the way they’d been since Adam and Eve. Nathaniel would no longer need to feel threatened by her strong will.
“Of course that’s the way our home will be,” she said. “I won’t defy you. In our marriage vows, won’t I be promising before God to obey you?”
“And a husband vows to protect his wife,” he said. “That’s all I’m trying to do.”
“I know. But neither of us has taken those vows yet. I’m serving God here. We can trust Him to look after me, can’t we?”
He nodded reluctantly. Julia saw some of the tension in his body ease. Neither of them spoke for a long moment. Then Julia said, “Please don’t be angry with me. We may not see each other for a while.”
He sighed. “I’m not angry.” Some of the warmth returned to his eyes, but his face was somber.
Julia wanted him to hold her, to reassure her. She longed to know what it felt like to have his strong arms surrounding her and to rest her head against his shoulder. They were relatively alone, sheltered behind the last tent in the row. She moved a step closer.
“Will I see you again before you leave?” she asked, gazing up at him.
“Probably not.”
She wanted him to kiss her. Instead, he took her hand and pressed it.
“Good-bye, Julia.”